


This Whole Clan Thing

by emthefirst



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24866740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emthefirst/pseuds/emthefirst
Summary: Hunters work better alone, everybody knows that - right? It's just what they do - expert scouts and trackers, heading out beyond what's left of civilisation, relying only on their wits and their skills. Lonely heroism at its finest.Nobody ever said hunters didn't sometimes wish for more, though.
Relationships: Female Guardian/Nonbinary Guardian (Destiny), Male Guardian/Female Guardian (Destiny), Male Guardian/Nonbinary Guardian (Destiny)
Kudos: 9





	This Whole Clan Thing

**Author's Note:**

> In case you were ever wondering how the main characters in Silver and Gold ended up in a clan, I had this idea in my head for a while as a possible backstory and/or lore entry. Now I've finished up the main story I've been going back and editing and tidying up any orphan chapters and snippets, and this one felt like it could stand alone as a bit of a prequel. Hope you enjoy it :)

Rescue missions suck.

This mission in particular, several gruelling hours combing the alleys in a corner of the ruined city swarming with hostiles, sucks even more than usual. And above it all having to chase around what’s effectively an active war zone just to retrieve a single idiot fucking gloryhound warlock who ignored basic procedures and broke off on his own, going dark on comms - well, that’s a whole new dimension of suck.

_How about we just don’t go find him? If this is a sample of his work I think we can rub along just fine without his help._

The hunter keeps that bitter thought to herself though. There’s been more than enough grumbling along those lines already, and the squad leader is rapidly losing patience. Odds are they wholeheartedly agree, but the mission is quite clear - command wants this idiot safely back in the fold ASAP. Orders are orders.

She snaps back to attention as the signal is given to break formation and search the current sector; a two block square per guardian, so that if anything does go down backup isn’t far away. This tiny squad is spread way too thin, otherwise they’d be able to quarter the area in teams of two at the very least, but everyone else is holding down the front near Midtown to prevent the Cabal from taking any more ground - with Shaxx yelling in their ears the whole time about preserving his Crucible arena, to boot. It’s not a problem though, right? They can all handle this, or they wouldn’t even be on the squad.

At least that’s the theory. To her annoyance she quickly finds herself turned around, skipping rapidly from shadow to shadow to evade the enemy patrols that keep cutting across her path, all of which does nothing to sweeten her mood. While she waits for a clear run at the next side street she entertains herself with visions of the fury Ikora is going to rain down on the missing guardian's thick head once he’s recovered. Three fireteams diverted from the main objective and five hours wasted, all on his account. _Fucking idiot_. _Does he think he’s invincible?_ If she finds him first, he’ll be lucky if there’s anything left of him for Ikora to ream out. And would those Cabal just get a bloody move on already?

She ducks further back into her latest hiding place and pulls out Anansi to check in with the squad leader, conscious she’s been out of contact for too long already - but something’s wrong. His normally bright blue optic is dull, barely glowing, and he stutters as if he’s having trouble hovering. She quickly brings her hand up under him before he can fall.

“What’s wrong?”.

“Dead zone.”, the ghost slurs. “Get moving. East.”.

She nods and tucks him away safely again, peeking out over her makeshift cover to see if it’s clear.

At that precise moment she realises two things. One, the warlock could well have been caught by the dead zone exactly as she has been, and maybe he’s not such an idiot after all. Maybe. And two, that was definitely a faint scraping noise coming from the far end of the alley she’s occupying right now.

_Found him._

Still cautious - after all, it might be Fallen hiding down there, waiting for the patrols to pass just as she has been - she dodges to activate her cloak and paces stealthily to the end of the alley. Yep, somebody or something is definitely trying to hide at the back there, tucked in behind a half-demolished shop front. Could that be a warlock robe poking out …? It’s the wrong colour for Red Legion gear or Fallen, in any case. Worth investigating. She rounds the crumbling brick wall just as her cloak wears off, and skitters to a halt with both barrels of a shotgun pressed against her collarbone.

“Ah, the cavalry has arrived!”, the figure crouched in the shadows murmurs delightedly, lowering his gun. “Unless you’re lost too? You can share my alley, if you like. It’s not much, but it’s starting to feel like home.”.

Relief at finding him unharmed is swiftly burned away by white-hot fury at his casual attitude.

“You think this is funny?”, she hisses. “We’ve been looking for you for hours, when we should have been pushing the objective. What the hell were you thinking, coming down here alone?”.

“Side mission. Ah - strictly need-to-know, and I don’t think you do. Sorry.”. He sounds genuinely apologetic. “Also, I’m technically not alone. My partner will be around here somewhere.”. He gestures vaguely around him.

“What? Nobody mentioned a partner.”. She glares at him - pointlessly, since her mask is covering her face, but the set of her chin says it all. “I’m only supposed to retrieve one lost fool who couldn’t follow orders. You’re telling me I can get two for the price of one?”.

He snickers quietly, resting his head back wearily on the wall behind him, and throws up a hand to acknowledge the hit. “Deal of the century, trust me.”.

She rolls her eyes, turning half-away to check the alley behind her and stretching her senses the way only a hunter can. Let’s see, hostiles are close but not too close, east is _that_ way, might have a clear run at rejoining the squad if this idiot lost boy will just get a move on … she calculates angles, eyeing the low roof of the ruined kiosk as a potential route up and over the buildings to avoid trouble on the ground.

“We can go up and over.”, she finally says decisively, “The squad should be nearby, if we can just get out of the dead zone and raise them on comms …”.

“Um, I’m afraid rooftop free-running may be a little beyond me just now.”.

He shifts awkwardly and she belatedly realises why he was crouched at such an odd angle; one leg is stretched out ahead of him, raised up on an upturned crate, and his robes from the knee down are shredded and soaked with blood.

“You’re injured.”, she states flatly. “Fucking _perfect_. We’re in a dead zone, there’s no way out but on foot. Can you walk, at least?”.

“Maybe …”. - he struggles to his feet by degrees, lurching to steady himself against the wall, and she steps back in alarm as he towers over her. She’s what can only be described as petite, and she’s resigned herself to never ever seeing the tops of people’s heads, but this guy is freakishly tall - her head barely reaches the middle of his chest. There’s no way in hell she can prop him up and help him walk.

“ _Shit_.”.

“Yeah. Let’s just give it a minute, okay? I promise you my partner isn't far away.”.

She opens her mouth to ask how he can be so sure - and then she hears it. Screams, mostly. A few punches connecting. No gunfire, no ordnance, just an expanding ripple of growing alarm; a lively toccata of oh-fuck-where-did-you-come-from noises scored for a mixed Cabal choir and punctuated by scattering footsteps in all directions.

“Is that - him? What is he doing out there?”, she whispers, totally failing to disguise her awe.

“Getting the job done.”, he grins. “Sully! Over here!”.

She hisses at him to be quiet, turning in furious alarm to check the end of the alley for hostiles, and chokes down on a scream when a bulky armoured figure slides out of the shadows in front of her.

“Told you.”, Maas murmurs, sagging back against the wall.

* * *

She doesn’t know what the mystery titan’s problem is, but he doesn't say a word to her while he checks the warlock over and helps him to his feet. Strong silent type, huh? _Rude_. Not that she honestly feels like she has anything to say to him, or anything she wants to hear for that matter, but some acknowledgement of her existence would be nice. Even the warlock’s misplaced levity is better than this grim silence.

Perhaps he’s still in the zone, she tells herself. Some guardians get like that when they’re in a combat mindset, only snap out of it when they get back to safety, berserker-style. Maybe he’ll chill the fuck out and behave like a normal person once they’re all out of danger.

Or maybe not.

They’re picked up and transmatted to the nearest scout shelter as soon as they have signal, and the errant duo are whisked away for immediate debriefing by an anxious-looking senior commander. The titan still hasn’t spoken or shown any sign of unbending, and she mentally writes him off as just another one of those self-important lone-wolf types who only interacts when they can benefit from it somehow. Plenty of those about these days. Something about war brings out the worst specimens of humanity, elevating them to a status they wouldn’t merit at any other time, and she’s beyond tired of dealing with the breed. Just one of the many reasons she works alone.

At the back of her mind though, is the image of the pile of bodies Mister Strong-and-Silent waded through - no, _created_ \- to rescue his partner. Whatever you think of the guy’s manners, you’d want him on your side in combat. And clearly he looks out for his own.

Back at the shelter she's surplus to requirements, to her great relief; she keeps her distance, claiming a quiet corner as far away from the bustle as possible and sitting down to check on Anansi. Thankfully he’s already much recovered, still complaining of some small residual lag as he shakes off the effects of the dead zone, but able to run a quick scan and establish that she hasn’t taken any serious damage. Looks like her cloak might be beyond salvation though, criss-crossed with ragged scorch marks like the charcoal-grilled burgers at her favourite Tower bar. Damn lookout Psions, amusing themselves taking idle potshots at anything that moves … and to top it off now she really wants a burger, too. Somehow field rations don't quite measure up now she’s got the idea in her head. First thing she’s doing when she gets home is heading down there for her favourite Cajun Special - fully-loaded, extra spice, double onion rings. Perfect.

That's a while away yet though. For now she rummages in her pack for something to appease her rumbling stomach, dumping her helmet on the floor beside her and shaking her braids free. She sighs with relief as she can finally get a hand to her head and massage her scalp. Honestly if the worst thing to come out of this little expedition is a tension headache and a ruined cloak then she got off lightly, but it’s still no fun.

She takes a bite of her ration bar and chews slowly, resting her head back on the wall and observing the activity across the shelter with lidded eyes. A casual observer might think the diminutive hunter was snatching a brief nap, but in reality she's stealthily watching the huddle of people around the injured warlock. His ghost is fussing around him and dealing with that leg at last, she’s glad to see. He may be as annoying as all hell, but she doesn’t wish him in pain. _I’m too nice_. His partner is hovering beside him, too - must be some friendship, for him to go to so much trouble. As cranky as she is right now, she has to admit that rescue, that was something else. Lovers perhaps? Seems likely from the solicitous hand on his arm, the unmistakeable set of his shoulders and head that screams ‘Are you okay? No, but really?’.

She smiles bitterly, swallowing a fierce stab of envy. There isn’t anyone to hover over her like that. Not here, not at the Tower, not anywhere. And certainly no-one as gung-ho all-guns-blazing impressive as the warlock’s heroic partner. Maybe she could reconsider some of those invitations hanging in her unread messages? On the other hand - if they’d been in any way appealing, or from people she was at all interested in spending time with, they wouldn’t still be sitting unread, now would they.

Movement to her right heralds the delivery of a steaming mug of tea placed wordlessly on the ground next to her, and she looks up in slight shock. The scouts hoard their limited luxuries carefully as a rule, she’s never been offered a cup before - she catches a shiver of a wink and a murmured “You’ve earned it. Good work today.”, before the figure straightens up and moves on. Ah well, it’d be rude to refuse it. Oh, and it’s the good stuff too, a hint of bergamot rising up in the steam wafting past her face. _Wow_. She cradles it in thankful hands, blowing off the steam and taking a cautious sip while she surreptitiously watches the crowd around the warlock. He’s making impatient flapping motions at them all, trying to convey that he’s fine and they can all leave him alone now, and he reaches up to release the catches of his helmet and take it off with much the same air of relief as she did earlier. A necessary evil, those things; they boil your brains at the same time as they prevent them from being splattered over the scenery.

The helmet is discarded without ceremony and his full face comes into view - she gasps in horror. What the hell happened to him? His whole face is covered in dark, livid bruises - why is he smiling? Why the hell isn't his ghost treating those injuries? What could cause - _oh shit, I’m an idiot. Those are tattoos_.

His whole face is covered, literally, right up to what would be his hairline, all the way down his neck and disappearing into the collar of his robes. She's never seen anyone with quite such extensive facial art, and she's fascinated.

His head whips round at some signal from his partner, and he catches her staring before she can look away. He doesn’t seem upset though, he seems … resigned. _Yeah, I bet people stare at you all the time. Sorry._ She hastily looks away, taking a careless gulp of her tea and burning her mouth slightly, and busies herself crumbling the irreparably scorched sections out of the fabric of her cloak, digging in her pack again for some cord to hold the less-damaged sections together. It’ll do until she can get back to the Tower and pull another one out of the vault.

The distraction tactic is so effective, her head bent over her work and fiercely concentrating on the repairs, she doesn’t notice the warlock coming over until he’s already looming in front of her. He sits down instantly to bring his face down to the same level as hers, and glances at her briefly with a half-smile threatening to break out.

“Just came over to say, um, sorry about my face. It’s the only one I’ve got though, so …”. He tails off, inviting her to laugh along with that cheeky glint in his eye, and she smiles reluctantly.

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t even know what I expected you to look like under there, but the tattoos were a bit of a surprise.”.

He laughs ruefully. “Yeah, they’re always a surprise. But you’re still talking to me, so, y’know, that’s nice.”.

She narrows her eyes, trying to work out if he’s joking again, but he seems sincere for a change. Why? What’s he after? She doesn’t have to wait long to find out.

“Anyway, thanks for everything. And, um, we were seriously thinking about starting a clan, once we can find enough people we can stand to be around for any length of time altogether, and my partner says - well, they’ve taken a shine to you. Quite impressed, seriously. That’s really unusual. So we, er, we wondered if you were looking to join a clan at all?”.

“Oh god, no.”. The denial tumbles out in haste, low and bitter, and he looks so hurt that she hurries to explain. “No look, it’s just … I haven’t had the best experience with the whole clan thing so far. I’m happier on my own, then at least I know I don’t have to deal with toxic people, I can just walk away. Better all round.”.

He didn’t need to know that, she scolds herself, a simple polite refusal would have been plenty. _The word ‘No' is a complete sentence in any language_ , she recalls somebody once telling her.

“Ah.”. He frowns down at his hands. “Yeah, that makes sense. Well, if you change your mind … you’d be a founder member, you see, so you’d get a veto on anyone else joining that you didn't feel comfortable with - but if you really don’t want to that’s fine. Sorry to have bothered you.”. He clambers back to his feet and prepares to walk away.

“Wait a minute.”.

“Yep?”. He turns back hopefully.

“Your partner didn’t say a word to me, didn’t even look at me the whole time. Zero interaction. What exactly did I do that impressed him so much?”.

“You really want to know?”. The warlock grins broadly, like it’s the biggest joke ever. Her palms itch - _oh, I’m gonna slap that smirk off your face in a minute -_ oh great _,_ now the silent titan is coming over as well, evidently to see whether he’s actually making progress. His proximity makes her more tense than ever.

“I asked, didn’t I? Answer the question.”. That came out sharper than she intended, but she’s not apologising this time. Why is he so annoying?

Unexpectedly the warlock looks at his partner, still helmeted, and raises his eyebrows in an unspoken question; the titan nods and make a 'there you go' gesture in her direction, and the warlock laughs out loud. “That.”, he says. “That’s what you did. What you do. You’re not afraid to call me out. They, um, they say I could do with more of that in the people I work with.”.

“Oh, they _say_ , do they?”. Anger seethes up. She's not sure why the idea of them casually discussing her like that makes her so furious, but it does. “When do they say that? I haven’t heard them say a word. Can't they speak for themselves?”.

The warlock’s face drops, and he looks over at his partner in concern. “Ah - well, yes and no. They don’t speak much, it’s a … thing. Do you sign at all?”.

“What? No, what, you mean sign language? Are they deaf?”.

“No, but - argh, it’s complicated. Look -“, but he’s forestalled by the titan, placing a warning hand on his arm then lifting off his helmet at last.

She honestly doesn’t know what she was expecting to see this time; something like Lord Saladin probably, going by their aggressive all-in combat style. Dark and rugged and masculine, with maybe a few additional scars and almost certainly a broken nose. Warpaint, possibly. But the face that emerges for her inspection is just - well, none of that. Awoken, for a start. Pale and perfect. Slender, handsome in a classical way … boyish. Delicate, almost.

_Damn he’s pretty_. Where that stray thought came from she doesn’t know, but she shoves it away for later inspection and tries to gather her wits. _You’re staring, idiot. Say something_.

Unfortunately the first words that tumble out are, “Wow. So … are you two a thing, or …?”. She flinches, horrified, as she hears the faintly hungry note in her own voice. _What’s got into you, girl?_ “I mean, um, it looked like, and I just wondered - “. She tails off, flushing up to the roots of her hair.

But when she dares to look up again the titan is smiling at her, eyes crinkling faintly in a hint of a sympathetic understanding. The warlock on the other hand convulses with helpless laughter, and she curls her hand into a fist to quell the urge to slap him. To her immense relief the titan comes to her rescue before she has to resort to violence, grabbing the warlock’s shoulder and waving a hand sharply in front of his face. Once he has his attention he starts signing rapidly.

“Okay, they're saying - what? No way - oh okay, fine. They say you should slap me if you want to because I deserve it. Thanks a lot, partner. And, um, just by the way you’re not even close to being the first person to react that way when they take off their helmet. That’s me saying that by the way, not them. And - slow down Sully, would you? jeez - they say maybe we should all run a few missions together so you can get an idea of whether you’d like to be around us on a regular basis.”. He freezes, looking sidelong at his partner with a tinge of awe. “That’s brilliant. Why didn’t I think of that?”.

“Because you’re an idiot.”, Dina snaps, at the precise moment the titan signs the exact same thing. The approving look he flashes at her makes her feel warm all over. There's a very different note to her voice, looking up at the laughter lurking in his pale eyes, when she finally says, “I’m up for that. Let’s see how it goes.”.

* * *

**— Three weeks later —**

“It is _not_ time to get up.”.

Maas laughs silently up at the dim ceiling and tucks his head down to look at her. “I’m sorry, say again? That was a bit muffled by the pillow.”.

“You heard me.”, Dina growls. “We have at least another half hour. Tell him, Sully.”.

The titan says nothing, but the arm they had wrapped around her waist emerges from the covers to signal an emphatic thumbs-up.

“Look - “, Maas protests, laughing. “We have an appointment with the Commander to get registered, and then we have another appointment to look at a dorm, and as much as I’d like to spend the day in bed with you both we need to get moving. Unless you don’t want to set up a clan any more?”.

“Mmph.”, is Dina’s only answer, burying her face sulkily against his shoulder. Then she sighs and emerges with a scowl. “Yes, I want a clan. _And_ I want another half an hour in bed. The two are not mutually exclusive.”.

“Wow, are you always this grouchy in the morning?”. There’s a threatening mumble which he wisely decides not to ask her to repeat, and he flops back, abandoning his attempts to get out of bed. “Okay, fine. Half an hour, and that’s it. You hear?”.

“I hear.”. Now she’s got her way the scowl clears and her brilliant smile emerges, sunshine after rain; she pulls herself up to kiss his cheek and snuggles back down with a happy sigh. “How does it feel, being the sensible one?”.

“I hate it. Make it stop.”, he grumbles, but he's smiling to himself as he tightens his arm around her.


End file.
